New Music Recs: “American Girls” by Harry Styles

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I love the dimensions of this song. The layers are what stand out most to me as I listen, especially as the song progresses. There’s a funky reverb that builds to a nice cushion under Styles’ voice. I’ve noticed that that level of richness is often missing from pop music these days; listen to the radio and the blurry synths start to run together. Even though “American Girls” uses a drum machine, the beat stretches and envelops Styles’ voice without overwhelming it. I get major ’70s vibes, which is also fun; most pop songs reach for ’80s synth influences.

The lyrics themselves are less to write home about; they’re a cute musing about the temptations and frustrations of, well, American girls. It’s unclear whether Styles wants these girls or is skeptical of relationships with them, but either way, he can’t help noticing how enthralling they are.

Covers Corner: “My Girls” by Tears for Fears

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I wrote about the original version of “My Girls” back in 2021. This one opens very differently, with a distorted child’s voice saying “there isn’t much that I feel I need/a solid soul and the blood I bleed.” Then we jump right into an almost exuberant electronic beat punctuated by a child’s sighing. The Tears for Fears version is much more compressed; it’s less atmospheric and hollow than the original. As a result, the song is also less shimmery.

However, that’s not to the cover’s detriment. Tears for Fears is well-suited to cover this song; they’ve penned reflective hits of their own (see “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” or “Break it Down Again”). The vocals here are softer and well-layered, and, as with many covers, you can discern the lyrics more easily.

In terms of preference, I lean towards the Tears for Fears cover. The emptiness of the Animal Collective original is sometimes hard to shake. What do you think?

Throwback Thursday: “Cry When You Get Older” by Robyn

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This song was transformative for me when I was a teenager. It was the era when I was beginning to establish my own music taste, and while Robyn didn’t figure as largely as some other artists I’ve written about, she was still influential in her own way. I believe I found her through 8tracks (RIP!). Someone I followed had “Hang with Me” on one of their playlists, and I explored Robyn’s other songs after that. Body Talk is full of these poignant dance jams (“Dancing on My Own,” of course, along with “Call Your Girlfriend”). But it’s “Cry When You Get Older” that resonated with me the most.

The line from “Cry When You Get Older” that spoke to me in particular back then was, “I need some kind of miracle ’cause I lost all my faith in science/so I put my faith in me.” When you’re a teenager, you’re starting to figure out what’s important to you. What your values are. Without going too far down the trauma dump rabbit hole, let’s just say there was a lot of faith for me to lose back then. And I was starting to wake up to that. When Robyn sang about wanting and imagining “more to life than this,” it got me dreaming about what more could be out there for me, too.

Covers Corner: “drivers license” by David Byrne

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Get ready to cry!! I haven’t teared up at a song in awhile, but wow, this one got me. David Byrne uses his deep, sonorous voice to convey a different level of emotion than in the original. When he sings, “I still fucking love you,” I feel the level of anguish he’s experiencing. He has decades of remorse to sift through and is singing from that perspective. Interestingly, Byrne speak-sings through much of the song, unlike in such hits as “Once in a Lifetime” and “Burning Down the House.” This choice makes me feel like he’s speaking directly to the subject of the song. Also, can we talk about the “ah-oh, ah-oh” acapella-esque vocals in the background? They’re so spare and atmospheric. And when they turn into background vocals, my God, the chills.

I love my girl Olivia, and I had her version on repeat when my first boyfriend left me, but I love Byrne’s version, too. It will definitely be on rotation whenever I need to get in my feels. Below are both versions:

Book Review: “Night People” by Mark Ronson

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Night People is the first book I’ve reviewed for this blog that I didn’t like. Most of the ones I’ve read have been either middle of the road or a standout. Mark Ronson’s memoir was a disappointment. I’d been looking forward to reading it for awhile. His production work for Amy Winehouse is of course legendary, and I’ve seen his TED Talk a few times, so I wanted to learn where it all started. Plus, the ’90s are not my decade – I focus more on the ’70s and ’80s – and this seemed like a great opportunity to visit what is now, disturbingly, history.

Most memoirs have structure. They’re written with focus; a clear story in mind. Aside from the recurring image of “night people,” Ronson’s memoir reads as a hazy collection of stories told by someone who keeps going “and another thing” as he remembers more details. There were also random one-off formatting changes that added to the disjointed feeling. One was a script, and the other was a “class schedule” as Ronson learns more about DJing. The former was an odd attempt at scene-setting; the latter merely felt dorky.

I did enjoy the moment where Ronson talks about trying to get all his gear from his apartment to a club and back again. That was a visceral scene: you can feel how heavy those crates are and the stress and frustration of trying to get them outside without the valuables being stolen. The scene also stood out because it emphasized how much DJing has changed since the ’90s. Gear is lighter, for one, since the majority of it exists in clouds and USBs.

While I was transported back to ’90s New York City through Night People, it was a bumpy ride, and not one I’d recommend. This one gets a 2/5 stars.

New Music Recs: “Man I Need” by Olivia Dean

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“Man I Need” is the first release by the pop girlies that I’ve been excited about in awhile. It sounds both familiar and new, and that’s the perfect blend to feel refreshed by.

The familiar vibe comes from the ’80s nods: cushy synths that are organ-like and recall “Just the Way You Are,” paired with a bouncy drum machine. This combo is made new when you get to the echoing bridge, a more common feature in modern songs, and Dean urges, “talk to me, talk to me.”

What strikes me most is “Man I Need”‘s softness. The beats are pillowy and cloak Dean’s voice. True, sometimes to the point of being muffled, but you feel enveloped by the song and by her voice. Her voice, too, is gentle, though it sometimes veers into the throaty mumble common among her peers.

The lyrics are also soft and inviting. You’d think with a title like “Man I Need” that the song would be demanding, but it’s not. It’s simple and straightforward: “Don’t be shy/Just come be the man I need.” My favorite lyric is, “I kinda like it when you call me wonderful.” The line is so earnest and sweet, and being called “wonderful” isn’t something you hear very often in pop music.

Overall, “Man I Need” is joyful and well worth a listen.

Book Review: “Hit Men”

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I’m reading Hit Men: Power Brokers and Fast Money Inside the Music Business by Fredric Dannen. A great read, and very on brand for me, but it also has me reflecting on how our music tastes are shaped by men. As Dannen comments, “Boy’s club that it is, the industry has no such term as “record woman.” (p. 75) The masculinity here shows itself in the usual measure ’em of whose record deal is bigger. The thread I’m following as I read Hit Men is trying to tease out the relationship between greed and masculinity. The lengths men go to in order to prove themselves a success, no matter the cost.

Similarly to I Want My MTV, we see how power brokers in the industry promote or withhold artists as a ploy. How much of our tastes, then, are really our own? These are shaped by cultural influences, a friend’s recommendations, memories we associate with who and where we were the first time we heard a song, a band. But the artists who are there in the first place – a lot of the time, that’s the manufactured part.

Even in the age of growing demand for “authenticity,” payola still creeps in. Just a week ago, a lawsuit against Spotify alleges that there were billions of “fraudulent” Drake streams. These came from bots and “abnormal” VPN usage. It’s the same story that caught Alan Freed, remade for the digital age.

Hit Men is comprehensive and well worth the time if you’re interested in the history of the recording industry like I am. I’m going to rate it 4/5 stars.

Throughlines: From “The Twist” to “DJ Got Us Fallin’ in Love”

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I was in the car listening to ’60s music when “The Twist” came on. I hadn’t heard the song in years, but it immediately got stuck in my head. “The Twist” is just so catchy: the beat is urgent and joyful, and Chubby Checker is urging you to get up and dance. The ’60s really were the years of novelty songs and dances.

What struck me about “The Twist” is that thematically it isn’t very different from club songs of today. The song that my roommate and I specifically compared it to was “DJ Got Us Fallin’ in Love.” On the surface, the two songs couldn’t be more different. One is a fad dance song, the other is an Autotune-heavy dance anthem that references zombies. But I think this is an example of the more things change, the more they stay the same. “The Twist” talks about tearing the house down; Usher sings that they’re “gonna burn this motherf— down.” In “The Twist,” Chubby Checker sings, “take me by my little hand/and go like this.” In “DJ Got Us Fallin’ in Love,” Usher urges, “put your hands on my body.”

So while “The Twist” is definitely more winking about it, the two songs show that no matter the era, you’re always going to want to dance with the cutie across the room.

New Music Recs: “outlaw overture” by mgk

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I used to follow celebrity news much more closely than I do now, so mgk was on my radar that way. Musically, I hadn’t heard anything of his. “outlaw overture,” from his latest album, lost americana, is so far the only mgk song I’ve heard and it really snuck up on me with how much I’ve enjoyed it. The song feels like three songs in one. It opens with a cheerful 8-bit beat, then switches to faster drums that carry through most of the rest of the song before slowing back down during the interlude.

It’s mainly those drums that I want to focus on, because they’re the main reason I like this song. “outlaw overture” is a clear homage to ’00s pop punk. mgk’s vocals echo the British inflections of Billie Joe Armstrong and other punk singers of that ilk. Instrumentally, the pace of the drums sound like something by The Killers, The All-American Rejects, or even Busted. ’00s nostalgia has made it to the music scene after taking over beauty and fashion. The 20-year rule strikes again.

Lyrically, the song nods to Rebel Without a Cause (“I feel just like James Dean”) and Johnny Cash (“I was born to walk the line”). We also ride down the empty roads and through the dying towns that make up the Americana image of the album’s title. It’s a journey that mgk’s vocals sustain: he sounds hurt and full of heart, rather than full of a dismissive affectation.

While listening to mgk wasn’t on my bingo card for this year, I love how I’m always being surprised by new music. Give a listen below and let me know what you think:

“Mama, I’m Coming Home”

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My bag is writing about music and memory, so with the news of Ozzy Osbourne’s death, I’m thinking about “Mama, I’m Coming Home” and what it meant to me.

I’ve been doing a lot of work on myself, and I have come to understand how I was not set up for success in college. Music was my savior. I flailed around for artists and songs that explained what I was feeling when I couldn’t do it myself. “Mama, I’m Coming Home” was one of those songs. There was a group of people I’d been hanging out with that I also felt an inner tension with; I’ll never know if they felt it, too. I wanted to fit in, but I also pushed them away. I was struggling and crying all the time. I felt alone. “Mama, I’m Coming Home” captured that loneliness. “I’ve seen your face a thousand times” and being apart from the subject of the song; caring but not caring at the same time. The clearest mental image I have, whenever I hear this song, is looking up at one of the people I was friends with, seeing them in the distance, and playing this song in my head. I thought I was cooler. I wanted to be better.

I wanted to come home to a feeling I could barely describe.

It could be my own maturity, but these days the song sounds wistful to me rather than angsty. Not caring about the sunshine – just wanting to come home. I can articulate the feeling now: a desire for connection without caring about the past. Leaving it at the door. Moving on.